Ted Bundy On Twilight
by CorneroftheMoon
Summary: Ted Bundy, the notorious serial killer, decides to see what all the fuss is about, and reviews "Twilight"! It's gonna be good... Please read and review!


_**Ted Bundy on "Twilight"**_

"_You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not __human__?" –Edward Cullen_

Vampires, the fantastical symbol and manifestation of the utmost evil, things that exist only to consume the very essence of life, have now become the romantic fantasy of girls and women. I suppose we ourselves aren't far from becoming a part of that fantasy too. How exciting that shall be, to have our victims fantasize about us for a change.

_"I don't __want__ to be a monster." –Edward Cullen_

Vampires receive sympathy for the heavy burden of a curse that has been bestowed upon them, changing them into a victim, instead of a blood-sucking killer. So society can justify this with this far stretch of logic, but can't justify what people like me do? We are burdened with a curse just like they are; ours forced us to split from the bonds of what is acknowledged as "normal society". We weren't born with emotions, sympathy, guilt, or perhaps we just had them taken away from us at an early age. Vampires still have all of these things that we lack, and they still consciously choose to do what they do. But then again, I suppose I too made that decision.

_"I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly." –Edward Cullen_

If this Edward Cullen is really who he portrays himself to be, if he lives in the world and reality he says he does, then he is a fool who is incapable of realizing and seizing the natural advantage and opportunity that is his own abnormal abilities. So much potential, all strangled within his self-control. What a waste of the ideal killing machine. However, if he is not who he seems, if there is really a deeper, darker layer to him, one that he hides exceptionally and masterfully well, then he is just as much a god as I am.

"_Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires." –Bella Swan_

We serial killers have two main categories that divide us as well. We have those amongst us who have killed, been caught, and express such remorse, such sadness, such regret, directed towards his past actions of murder, that it causes _my_ stomach to churn with disgust. Those would be the "good" killers or as close to "good" as you can get with serial killers. When someone works as hard as we do, to plan every last detail of each and every murder, to get it all right, and then to throw it all away, that person has sunk to a level below his victims, sunk to such a pathetic stage that I find it incredible that the media doesn't turn away from you in utter revulsion. No, instead they suck it all up into that tar pit that they have created, that weaves strands of deception through minds, infecting the younger minds with images of false possibilities, and creating obsessions over the often so unattainable within the law. And that's what the second category exists to do, to counter these pathetic suck ups, to be the "mortal enemy" of these people that hardly deserve the esteemed title of serial killer. With an utter lack of emotions, and an unwavering devotion to our game, we are made gods as we rise from the ignorant and thoughtlessly content masses, to become a master of life and death, to watch the last bit of breath leave a person's lungs. We exist to possess, to savor the dying art form of killing, to save it from disappearing completely. Thank goodness that there are, and always will be, more people like us, people like us who are your sons, your husbands, your fathers, put on this earth to insure there will always be more of your children dead tomorrow.

"_I was consumed by the mystery Edward presented. And more than a little obsessed by Edward himself." –Bella Swan_

Thousands of new pieces, pawns of course, have been added to the board of our chess game. Those who are your daughters, who now dream of being comforted in dangerous stone cold arms, those who are your mothers or wives, dreaming of escaping the repetitive boredom of laundry and children to an excitingly deadly romance, will all be devoured by the next generation who replaces us as the masters of the chess game, some following in our footsteps, others branching off to form their own. And for that, I praise the author of this book; I thank her, for she quite unknowingly opened the arms of women to that dangerously brooding murderer, the killer who deceives every woman's dreams, exposes her obsessions, and preys on her innermost need for a mystery. How exciting that shall be. A shame that author won't be around to see what her work has done for us, for without a doubt; she shall have the honor of being the first kill. It is her fantasy after all, and who are we to deny her the thrill of living it?

_"Do you want to ride with me today?" –Edward Cullen_

Well, isn't he bold? Usually, I would have to go to such lengths to trick women into my car. I suppose I could've just asked them like Edward did, women are so stupidly susceptible that there's an incredibly high probability that they would do just that. Bella proves that. Then again, if they just crawled into the back seat, what fun would it be? It's like going hunting only to have the deer take your shotgun, and shoot itself for you. There's just no fun, no sport, in it.

_"So you're worried about the trouble it might cause me – if you don't come home?" –Edward Cullen_

How cute, Bella's worried more about Edward than her own life. If that isn't love than I don't know what is. And since I _don't_ know what love is, then that could only mean that either that Bella's pathetic suicidal addiction to Edward is a mutual exchange of warm fuzzy feelings, or it's just a sad one-sided illusion of obsession that will without a doubt end quite tragically. For some reason, I find myself leaning towards the latter…

"_They appear to have skin like ours, albeit very fair skin. The skin serves the same general purpose of protecting the body. However, the cells that make up their skin are not pliant like our cells, they are hard and reflective like crystal, that glitters in the sun like diamonds." –Stephenie Meyer_

What a magnificent disguise that would be. I think I shall go and find some sparkles to cover myself in, go into the woods as some pitiful socially rejected high school girl follows me, announce myself to be a killer, and watch her just fall into my awaiting hands. How wonderful! I wonder why nobody else has tried this. Women would simply flock to what they think is their chance at love, and suddenly, they would be dead. Simply delightful.

"_About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was part of him — and I didn't know how potent that part might be — that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him." –Bella Swan_

Love, what a horrible feeling it must be to possess. God, to have to actually feel an attachment, a mutual one at that, without room for any lies and pretending, must be the ultimate punishment. Love, when your eyes are blinded and your head can't think logically, what a horrible way to die, in absolute ignorance. How foolish they are, sentencing me to death, they should just inject a love potion into my veins and soon I'm quite sure they would have me begging for the electric chair. I am more than thankful that the puny little minds of their scientists have not yet grasped how to master and manipulate the mind, unlike me; I have become the master of the utmost degree in such matters. I was able to grasp the beating heart of fragile love, to squeeze it in my hand, and then make it burst, stuttering to an end. To be at the other end, my wouldn't that be awful? How lucky I am, to be the most cold-hearted son-of-a-bitch you'll ever have the pleasure of meeting.

I find it wonderfully ironic that Meyer chose the most loveless and deadly creature in the fantasy realm to cast her heart upon. Stupidity and weakness will more than certainly be her end. I hope I manage to avoid execution before I can read her obituary in the paper. That should be fascinating; more so than her book at least. It could quite possibly become the best piece of writing with her name on it.

"_And so the lion fell in love with the lamb…" –Edward Cullen_

I hope that he ends up killing her, although that would ruin the image of fiction, and bring an abrupt end to our prey's fascination. Or perhaps they would be even more pulled in by what they call a "tragic" ending. How ignorant they all are. A "tragic ending" doesn't involve mutual love, sympathy, or feelings at all. It involves a girl realizing that she had just played willingly into the hands that would soon be marked with her blood, but is too enamored with the prospect, that she casts it behind her and tries to make a loveless man love her. Of course it ends with her being dead, as any properly realistic story should end. It also ends with him escaping, if he's good. If he's not, if he's "good", then he'll turn himself in, and join the ranks of the common prisoners, abandoning a godly position he had been offered, denying a chance to be amongst the people who control everything that our society has been built on, life, to the point of becoming not simply masterful criminals, but also lords of death.

_"My mortality. I'm putting it to a vote." –Bella Swan_

I vote for.

"_Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain." –Bella Swan_

Often times I have wondered something similar. But I didn't wonder if there was a glitch in my own mind. I mean sure, other people wondered why I have a glitch in my mind. They thought that the fact I felt no guilt, no pity, no remorse, no emotions, was a fault. But whenever I made an effort to show some sort of emotion, just to prove them wrong, they wondered why I was so "quick to rage". It seems that when it comes to my mind, they find fault with everything. But that's all right, since I always have wondered why there seems to be so many defects in their minds, mutations of a sort, like guilt, remorse, pity, love, happiness. Yes, I didn't wonder about my own mind, I was quite certain of its stability. I wondered about everyone else's.

_"Lie," the beautiful velvet voice whispered… I did what the voice said to do. –Bella Swan_

"Kill," the beautiful velvet voice whispered… I did what the said to do. I don't see the difference.

_"You could stay here with me. You could stay alive. For Charlie. For me." –Jacob Black_

Oh, yet another love related complication, just what this story needed. No longer is she a human in love with a vampire, but she's now a human divided between necrophilia and bestiality. Personally, I would opt for necrophilia, but to everyone their own. At least with necrophilia you don't have to worry about getting bit. I'm not sure that applies to Bella's situation though…

"_I may not die now… but I'm going to die sometime. Every minute of the day, I get closer. And I'm going to get _old_." –Bella Swan_

Everyone dies. That's reality. Some people think it's harsh. Those are the people who try to deny it, trying to run from the inevitable death that is right on their heels, being as ridiculously stubborn as to not admit their own obvious mortality until the reaper's scythe is plunged into their chests. Now of course there are others who admit that nothing really can last forever. Those people are just as ignorant and stubborn as the others. Those are the people who count down the seconds 'till death, as their own lives slip away from under their fingertips. The reapers don't even need to bother reaping a soul, because it gets to a point where there is simply nothing to reap. Then, there are people like us, who know that death is inevitable, but instead of wasting away with the realization, decide to take the inevitable and manipulate it like clay in our hands. Clay that forms a perfect tomb around those we chose to get acquainted with reality just a little sooner than they had planned. It's not like it wasn't already coming for them, so really it's no great loss. Everyone says that you never know who is destined to be great, so you could very well be killing the next great whatever. That however is a blatant lie; of course you know who's destined to be great. If you're like me and you chose to kill of the people that are to be great, you'll quickly find that fate has a funny way of correcting itself, and a replacement is made. It has to be, since death so often cuts into the world, that no plans can be carved in stone. Yes, we do indeed accept that we too shall die. We have no obscure notion of immortality on earth. But while we are here, why not use this magnificent force called death for our _own_ benefit, our _own_ pleasure, until it catches up with us and takes us down to the depths of hell. Hell, I'm quite looking forward to it, from what I've heard, it's a paradise for people like me.

_You didn't see — you don't understand. Once he commits to a hunt, he's unshakable. We'd have to kill him. –Edward Cullen_

They're going to kill me too, sooner or later. I know I said before that I didn't want to die, and at first that was what I truly thought, until I realized something that made me begin to look forward to it all, like a little kid on Christmas Eve. It's not that the prospect of my own death excites me, but the exciting knowledge that as soon as the electricity runs through my body, ending my life, I will have won, permanently. And they can't do anything to change that outcome, because when they realize their mistake in the game, it will be to late. You can't play chess with a dead man. Yes, they're killing me, and sooner or later, and I'm sure they'll kill off the others as well, including these rumored "good vampires". They have to, to protect society from people, from killers, like us. For when the word "good" is put before the word of socially unaccepted evil, it has no effect. Is there such thing as "good" murderer? Not according to them, to the general population, so why should there be "good" vampires. They just don't exist, they're not meant to. You see, we're simply not meant to be anything else but evil. The taste of blood is too sweet to resist, and who are we to deny ourselves our calling? Yes, society certainly has the right to be protected from dangers such as myself. But as more and more of us are born from our ashes, society will realize that they themselves have become no better than the people they executed, and will eventually have no other choice but to cave in to the river of blood.

"_I remember nothing of being human." –Alice Cullen_

What a funny coincidence, neither do I.

_"I'm not human." –Edward Cullen_

Another coincidence! Amazing, it's as if Meyer wrote this with me in mind.

"_I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn't the only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard." –Bella Swan_

"Pity", even the word itself is revolting in its weakness. "Pity", a feeling that no serial killer should ever have the misfortune to possess, but most definitely should want everyone to feel. For if the masses do not feel pity, then that closes off one more tunnel that we have dug into the hearts of the feeble. If they do feel pity for us however, then we have them even further wrapped between our blood-stained fingers. And with pity, for whatever sob story we have told them or whatever sadness, regret, or perhaps even abandonment they think we feel, fogging up their already foggy mind, they will have no light to guide them from our trap. "Relief" is also a wonderful thing to see our victims feel before we plunge that betraying knife into their chest, seeing them so easily lulled by a false sense of safety and comfort. "Pity", is a death sentence, and "relief", is the numbness before agony. My, the outlook looks quite negative for Bella, doesn't it?

"_I stared without breathing across the long room, into the dark eyes of the hunter, and he looked pleasantly back at me." –Bella Swan_

Murder is not about lust and it's not about violence. It's about possession. When you feel the last breath of life coming out of the woman, you look into her eyes. At the point, it's being God. Feeling the overwhelming power surge through your blood, a power that you have now gotten to bow down to you, is an unforgettable feeling, that makes you hunger for more and more, and who are you to deny yourself of such cravings? Nothing makes you feel more alive, more immortal, than to stare into the dying eyes of someone lying so powerlessly at your feet, eyes that are losing what light they used to poses, as they know you have the very essence of their life wrapped around your finger, yours to abruptly end at any time you please. How sad it is, that people cannot bring themselves to rise above the puny little lives they have become so accustomed to living in, to feel this incredible feeling. But if they did, I suppose then we wouldn't have anyone to kill anymore. And what a dismal world that would be. 

"_And then I knew I was dead." –Bella Swan_

Oh, how happy Ms. Swan must be, she finally got the one thing she wanted, death. And what's one less person on the face of the earth, anyways? Or twenty, or thirty, it's not like there won't be thousands more arriving in the time it takes to terminate one. We are hunters, the ultimate hunters; we regulate the population, cutting back one by one when their environment becomes overwhelmed. Really, we're doing society a favor.

"_Stop trying to take your clothes off." –Edward Cullen_

This girl is begging for sex and death? My God, is it Christmas already?


End file.
